Nature's First Green Is Gold.

Nothing Not Built With Hands Of Course Is Sacred. But Here Is Not A Question Of What's Sacred; Rather Of What To Face Or Run Away From. I'd Hate To Be A Runaway From Nature.

And Nothing To Look Backward To With Pride, And Nothing To Look Forward To With Hope.

The Fact Is The Sweetest Dream That Labor Knows.

There Are Three Things, After All, That A Poem Must Reach: The Eye, The Ear, And What We May Call The Heart Or The Mind. It Is The Most Important Of All To Reach The Heart Of The Reader.

I Play Better Tennis Because The Court Is There.